


Softly as the footsteps of a cat at the cusp of dawn

by ximeria



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: A little angst, Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, a lot of love, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 01:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ximeria/pseuds/ximeria
Summary: In the space between night and dawn, after returning to London from Tadfield, the Apocalypse averted, but still having to deal with Heaven and Hell, an angel and a demon find comfort in each other's arms.





	Softly as the footsteps of a cat at the cusp of dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I aimed for the softest of soft for Meinposhbastard, but a little angst snuck in there. 
> 
> Thank you, dear, for the beta and I have marked the date in the calendar, as you had not demands of writing MOAR XD

"Hush, you know you promised," Aziraphale whispered against the top of his head.

Crowley bit his lower lip, forcing himself to stay quiet. It shouldn't be so hard to do, but Crowley was beginning to think he might have gotten well more than he'd bargained for.

However, he managed to nod, his face buried against Aziraphale's shoulder.

"I've always seen how you look at me, my dear, from the day on the wall of the Garden of Eden, to the airbase in Tadfield." Aziraphale huffed, the breath stirring Crowley's hair, sending a soft ripple through his body. "And I can never apologise enough for what I said, to push you into action."

Crowley opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again. Yes, yes, he'd promised, hadn't he? Had promised that he'd let Aziraphale speak until he was hoarse without interrupting, without diverting. 

"But I digress," Aziraphale muttered, "I want to lift you high, not bear the both of us to the darker thoughts." He rubbed a hand absentmindedly against Crowley's naked hip.

The whole world had narrowed down to his bedroom when they'd lain down. But now, with Aziraphale's voice the only focus, it was down to the bed itself, and the soft body he was curled up against. Not to mention the strong arm around his shoulder and the hand cupping his hip.

It was the early hours of the morning, still dark outside. They'd been so frantic when they'd gotten back from Tadfield, the tension so thick it could have been cut with a knife.

That was then, this was now. Crowley still felt like he could sleep for a week, but he wouldn't dare, not until they were sure what to do about Agnes' last prophecy. And he wanted to say that the sex had been phenomenal, which would be the truth, but this, the aftermath, was even better. Curled up in the mess of sheets, closer than they'd ever been before, closer than Crowley had ever dared hope for. [1]

"You never let me down, you waited for me, ever so patiently," Aziraphale continued. "You were always there for me when I truly needed you and when Heaven turned its back on me, you were still here, still waiting, still willingly to give me another chance, even if I thought perhaps surely you must've moved on, tired of my inability to admit what was ever so obvious."

Crowley closed his eyes. Oh, damnations, that hurt. All the times he'd ranted and raved at the angel over the past week, calling him a fool for his trust in Her and her legions. And how much it had hurt when he'd thought that his last words to Aziraphale would have been spoken in anger, aimed to hurt.

"You had more faith than I've ever managed," Aziraphale said.

Crowley opened his mouth to argue. He'd been the one to question Her since before the fall! [2]

"You had an unwavering faith in _me_," Aziraphale continued, as if he wasn't currently destroying Crowley's very foundation with his trust. "You may have argued with me, you may have argued loudly, with me, but you didn't leave me, in the end. Even desperation wasn't enough to turn you from me."

Crowley swallowed hard. He'd promised, he had, but if Aziraphale didn't stop anytime soon, he was going to destroy Crowley, with his words only. Trying to divert his own attention, Crowley moved his hand up to rest it where the angel would have had a heart, if he'd been as human as the vessel currently containing him.

The skin was soft and lovely, a light dusting of hair and a pair of alluringly pink nipples. Which Crowley wanted to touch, but it would probably count as trying to divert Aziraphale's attention. Instead he put his hand flat on Aziraphale's chest, fingers spread out.

"I hope you can forgive me for being such a dithering old fool." Aziraphale put moved his hand from Crowley's hip to lie on top of his hand. The heat and weight of it caused Crowley's stomach to flip. Such open physical display of affection. After so many years it seemed almost obscene. [3]

"You have always been my lodestone, my Northern Star, my Alpha Centauri, the person I could find in my sleep, the constellation to guide me." Aziraphale squeezed his hand. "I tried to turn away from you, because I foolishly trusted in Heaven and its angels, but it felt like I was cutting off a vital part of my own body, my own self."

Crowley breathed deeply, trying to focus on the scent from the skin close to his nose. Sex, sweat, something inherently Aziraphale, that Crowley couldn't ever hope of capturing in words.

"I was so lost, like a human navigating by the stars, I no longer had you to lead me to a safe harbour," Aziraphale said, so quietly that Crowley had to strain to hear. "God forgive me, but I put more trust in you than I feel I can ever put in any archangel ever again. She may cast me aside, if she wishes, but I will never turn from your guiding light ever again. If it burns me, so be it, at least I go willingly and with my eyes open."

Crowley felt bile rise in his throat. Aziraphale couldn't, _shouldn't_ be speaking about falling, not like this. He'd tempt heaven, he'd taunt Her, and he'd be cast out, he'd be thrown from on high to the depths of hell, and…

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Aziraphale whispered against Crowley's temple and Crowley realized that his hand on Aziraphale's chest had become a fist and his breathing had picked up. "They will not cast me out, Crowley, they will destroy me if they can. If they cast me out they fortify Hell, if they destroy me I, I cannot oppose them."

They were quiet for a moment, while Crowley tried to calm his breathing. He hadn't realised how hard the thought had hit him, the thought of Aziraphale falling from grace, thrust out of the embrace of Heaven.

Crowley flattened his hand again. His breathing was slowly returning to normal and he took a moment to be annoyed with his, at times, too human vessel.

"I think this is why Agnes' prophecy is right," Aziraphale mumbled. "They'll try to destroy us both - we have gone from being a nuisance to becoming a threat. If others see us, demons, angels, standing our ground, they, too, perhaps will start thinking for themselves, considering their own free will."

Crowley took a deep breath, then nodded. He knew, theoretically, that Aziraphale was right. That Heaven had long since stopped casting out angels, making them fall, worried that they might be strengthening Hell's army.

"And we must survive, Crowley," Aziraphale carried on. "For I refuse to have only this one night with you. I wish to be greedy, I want all the nights that I could have had, had I been brave, all the mornings, seeing you in the pale sunlight, spread out on a shared bed. I want to be able to touch you, to hold your hand where everyone can see; demons and angels and God Herself, even."

Crowley held his breath for a moment, before letting it out slowly. "Don't, angel, please."

"Crowley."

Crowley shook his head, finally lifting it from where he'd pressed his face against Aziraphale's neck. "I know I promised to let you speak, but don't push Her, don't tempt her, don't make her force us apart."

Aziraphale's eyes widened, a little damp at the corners, making them shine even more unearthly than before. "She is a being of love, Crowley, I may have lost faith in Heaven, but I have to trust that She, our creator, would not oppose the way I feel about you. Gabriel and his cronies may see it as wrong, but nothing," he said, cupping Crowley's cheek, "nothing can be wrong about how I feel about you. I refuse to accept it."

"Aziraphale," Crowley tried to stop him.

"No, I will not be quiet. You are the other half of my soul, what humans call the yin to my yang," Aziraphale said, a smidgen of desperation in his voice. "For too long I have kept quiet because we were supposed to be on opposite sides, for too long I have used those thin and stupid excuses to keep you at arm’s length, when in truth all I wanted was to put said arms around you and hold you tight, to show you all the love you should be showered in, all the adoration that is rightfully yours, the adoration I have been forced to fence off in the deepest parts of my being, fearing, should anyone find out, they would use it against you."

Crowley moved fast, clamping his hand over Aziraphale's mouth. "Angel," he began.

But Aziraphale pulled his hand away, holding it. "No Crowley, this is important. For too long have I gone without telling you exactly how I feel." [4]

Crowley watched with a hitch in his breath as Aziraphale's eyes fluttered shut when he lifted Crowley's hand to press feather soft kisses to the tips of his fingers.

He wanted desperately to tell Aziraphale to stop, that all this honesty, all this _love_ was going to kill him, or discorporate him, at least. Because that's how it felt at that very moment. Like his chest would burst if Aziraphale kept pouring all these emotions into it.

Crowley put two fingers under Aziraphale's chin and guided him into a deep kiss. He'd never quite understood Alice in Wonderland, but right at that very moment he felt like he was tumbling down through a rabbit hole, heading for a world he had no idea what might look like. And the fall itself was so long he might never land.

Falling. It was nothing like falling. If anything, it was the reverse, like he was being pulled up through sulphur and brimstone, through the dizzying world and into the softest feathery embrace, bathed in the softest and warmest light.

So loved, so adored and oh Go- oh Sa- oh _fuck_ but it hurt in the sweetest way.

Aziraphale's lips were slightly chapped, perhaps a little on the dry side, but the kiss grew deeper, hungrier, yet still unhurried. Crowley moaned a little as he felt fingers carding through his hair, rubbing his scalp.

When they parted they stayed as close as they could. Forehead to forehead, simply breathing, existing in this pocket of time, in their own little world.

"You did promise," Aziraphale said, voice rough, a little tear stained.

Crowley took a deep breath, then nodded, his forehead rubbing against Aziraphale's, but neither of them were particularly inclined to move.

"You're my sun, my moon, my stars, my love," Aziraphale said, breath gusting against Crowley's lips, his voice barely audible. "You have never, nor will you ever steer me wrong, you lead me to the safest harbour, unharmed."

Crowley wished for a fevered moment that he was wearing his sunglasses, because they would hide his tears. Then he took a deep breath and held it for a moment. The truth hit him like an oncoming train. He didn't have to hide. This wasn't Heaven or Hell, this was Aziraphale, the one being he should never hide from.

Aziraphale closed the distance between them and gently kissed the tear off the corner of his eye and Crowley felt like he was shattered into a thousand pieces, only to be made anew as Aziraphale kissed him again, and where the previous kiss had been deep and full of need, this one was so soft and sweet he felt like he wouldn't survive it.

"We have weathered more than one storm," Aziraphale whispered against his lips, "we can weather this one as well. You stood by me, as I stood by you in the face of the End Times. Whatever comes, will come, and we shall face it together, as is intended. She must have created you for me and me for you, and even if not, we are who we are, we love who we love and we will not budge or let them tear us apart. Or tell us we are wrong together."

Crowley swallowed a moan. He had to stop the angel before his words tore him to shreds. It was enough, they had time to talk, right this very moment, Crowley was dead set on repaying every word, every pause, every comma and hyphen and ellipse that had tumbled from Aziraphale's mouth with kisses and touches until they had to face reality and once again stand their ground.

* * *

1Crowley was, for all he'd tell you he wasn't, a romantic, and he'd been afraid that if he'd fantasized too much about it, it would jinx it.Return to text

2And he still did. God found this both amusing, since he was a demon and by all means, shouldn't be addressing her as often as he did, but also a little tiring, because the boy was terribly loud and uncouth at times.Return to text

3Like when he'd seen Aziraphale's ankles in 1859, after so many years of high stockings and long trousers. It had almost discorporated him.Return to text

4Aziraphale could repress like a champion. However, once he stopped and decided to go for it, there was no stopping him. Crowley loved this but it also unsettled him. He'd gotten used to letting his feelings out like a safety valve over the years by doing little things to show his love, but Aziraphale was basically the emotional equivalent of the Hoover dam breaking apart.Return to text


End file.
